All the Difference in the World
by Mr. Zeek
Summary: There is good and there is evil. Rarely ever does someone brave enough step up and fill the shoes of Good, but miracles happen right? This is the tale of how one man can change the fate of possibly the entire world. Full summary inside. OCxFCourier.
1. Chapter 1: New beginnings

**A/N**

**Well I've decided to take a break on my other story and do this one since I've sorta hit a brick wall.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Fallout, only the characters I made.**

**Description: This is a story of how one man can change everything. A mysterious stranger stumbles upon the Courier after she has been shot and gets involved. They become traveling compainions and set out to get back at whoever wronged them. The influence of the man will change the fate of the Mojave Desert. OCxFCourier.**

**Enjoy the story and please review to tell me if you liked it or hated it.**

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All the difference in the world

Chapter 1: New beginnings

It seems that wherever there is evil or chaos, a single being must rise to take the position of hero or villain. They either fight for everyone or for only themselves. All over this post-apocalyptic world there have been few to step forth and take responsibility for setting things right. Most are too consumed by greed or self-preservation to place others needs before their own. Luckily for mankind, such selfless people do exist. Whether it be in Southern California, Washington D.C, or in this case Nevada Las Vegas. At least that's what it used to be called. Now it's been renamed New Vegas. This is the story of how one man can change the fate of possibly the entire world.

Benny lifted the small remains of his cigarette to his lips and took a final inhale before discarding it to the ground. He tightened his grip on the handle of his custom made Colt 9mm, "Maria" as he had named it. He was feeling a bit uneasy as the young girl kneeling in the dirt glared defiantly up at him, even though she was securely tied up.

"I swear when I get my hands on you, oooh you're gonna get it!" She yelled venomously. Benny simply chuckled and said. "Sorry honey, but I don't think you'll get the chance." He glanced over his shoulder to check his men's progress on digging a hole. They had just climbed out of it and nodded their heads as they wiped sweat from their brow. He smiled at the signal. "Well, it seems that your time on this Earth has just been shortened babe." She began shouting obscene insults at him as Benny looked on in amusement. He raised his gun and took aim at her head. She tensed up and was immediately silenced. Fear was now adorning her features instead of anger. Her eyes widened as she began to shake.

Benny just continued smirking. "You see, in the end you're just little girl who's in way over her head." He cocked the hammer back on his gun. "Sorry kid, you never stood a chance. The game was rigged from the start." A shot rang out as the young woman's head was flung back. Her body crumpled to the ground and she remained unmoving as a small puddle of blood began to gather around her head, soaking into the dirt.

Jessup, a Great Khan who had been standing back spoke up. "Alright now can we get out of here so I can get paid?" He said anxiously. Benny gave him an annoyed look. "What's your problem, you'll get your money don't worry." The Khan became slightly angry. "I just don't like getting involved with little worms like you."

Benny just dismissed him as he turned around and lit up another cigarette. Blowing a puff into the night air he holstered his pistol. "Alright get her in the ground and let's wrap this up, I need stiff drink." He pulled a Platinum colored poker chip from his coat pocket and examined it as he walked from the cemetery. 'All this trouble for something so small.' He mused as he took another drag from his cigarette.

One of the henchmen grabbed a shovel to help burry the recently deceased. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed into the distance. He dropped the long tool and retrieved a pair of binoculars from his bag. Raising them to his face he scanned the landscape. Through his enhanced vision he saw a cloud of dust being trailed down a road about a mile away. "Hmm, that's odd." He mumbled to himself. "Hey come on, we ain't got all night!" One of the other men yelled. He almost dropped his binoculars as he was jolted out of his thoughts. He quickly stowed them away and got back to the job at hand.

Not too far from the cemetery was a small traveling caravan. They were about a miles walk from the small town of Goodsprings. Oscar the manager of this little outfit was trudging a long slowly, occasionally taking a swig from his canteen. He slowed his pace until he stopped walking all together, his company soon followed suit. The others looked at him curiously. He turned his head as a low rumbling sound was heard. In the distance he saw a cloud of dust approaching from the west.

"What do you suppose that is?" One of the other men asked. Oscar just shrugged his shoulders as he drew his 357 revolver. "Hell if I know, but let's just hope it's friendly." He said. The number of times strangers had attacked them unprovoked and without warning was ridiculous. Last week they had lost Craig to a group of those drug crazy raiders. If they were lucky this would be someone looking for trade. But what could possibly be making that dust cloud?

Soon it came close enough to see a silhouette in the middle of the cloud. Oscar's eyes grew wide as he recognized the shape. 'I haven't seen one of those in years.' He thought to himself. The mysterious object came into and was verified as a motorcycle. Everyone was pretty surprised that someone had actually gotten one of those things to work. However no one was as surprised as Oscar. He seemed to be the only one to notice that this wasn't your ordinary motorcycle. Because unlike every other vehicle around New Vegas. This one ran on gas.

The small vehicle came to a stop as the dust settled behind it. The motor died as the figured riding it stepped off and removed his helmet. He was male, stood at about 5'10 in height, short dark brown hair, and two different colored eyes. The right eye was dark blue while the left was grey with a tinge of blue. He had an average body build but had well developed muscles, as did most in the wasteland. He wore black leather armor with his left arm completely covered by the sleeve while the right appeared to have been cut short a few inches above the elbow. A medium length machete was strapped to his back in a fashion that would be easiest to grab with his left arm. On his waste was a belt that held an assortment of smaller weapons that varied from hand grenades to a 9mm Berretta that was positioned on his right hip. And finally, strapped to his right leg was a lever action shotgun.

The unknown stranger studied everything about the small caravan until he looked right at Oscar and said. "You wouldn't happen to sell ammo by any chance?" He asked. The tenseness in the group was washed away and one of the men released a breath of relief that he didn't realize he was holding. Oscar holstered his weapon and replied. "Sure do, what are ya looking for?"

The man stepped forward and answered. "Well I'm running a bit low on shotgun shells." Oscar nodded his head and began rummaging through a few bags hanging from a Brahmin. "What kind of shells are ya looking for?" Oscar asked as he continued sorting through his ammo supply. "I need some 20 gauge shells, also do you have any gasoline I could buy?" The stranger asked.

Oscar turned around with a box of the requested ammo. "I believe we have some, although it isn't much considering it's supposed to be used for a flamethrower and I'm guessing ya need it for that." He glanced at the motorcycle. "If ya don't mind me asking, where did ya get one of those?" The stranger looked at his vehicle before turning back to the man next to him. "Well that's a long story and I'm a bit short on time."

Oscar just nodded his head before shouting over his shoulder. "Jimmy, fetch some gasoline for this man would ya?" One of the men started searching through bags looking for the gas. Oscar handed the stranger the ammo box before stepping back to give him space. The other man proceeded to slide the shells into slots on his belt, the few that were left over he placed in his pocket. "How much for the ammo and gas?" The stranger asked.

"That'll be about 40 caps." Oscar replied. The stranger raised his eyebrow. "That's pretty cheap considering what all I'm getting." He said as he pulled out a bag of caps and paid him. Usually when he bought gas for his motorcycle he would be charged quite a bit for it. Oscar shrugged and said. "Well not many people use flamethrowers anymore, so I might as well sell it for cheap and be rid of it."

The stranger smiled and thanked him for it. Then he looked around and asked. "Is there a place called Goodsprings near here?" Oscar nodded his head and pointed towards a large hill. "Right up there is a cemetery, and just past that is the place you're looking for. Although I should warn ya, right before ya got here we heard a gunshot coming from that direction." The stranger thanked him for the warning.

The man who had been searching for the gas returned with a small metal gas can that seemed to be a little over halfway full. He handed it over to the stranger who nodded in return. He then placed it in a leather bag that was hanging from the side of his motorcycle. He bid the caravan goodbye and was on his way, heading towards the cemetery.

Before long he neared the large hill. He stopped about a quarter mile short of his destination. If there were hostiles then it would be best not to notify them of his presence. He pulled the keys from the ignition before pushing the motorcycle in between a couple of dead bushes. It may not be much for concealment but something was better than nothing, there was no way he would let his precious transportation be stolen.

Once he thought his work was satisfactory, he quietly trekked his way up the hill. As soon as he could climb without having to use his hands, he slid his sidearm from its holster readied himself for combat. It didn't take long to reach the top. He heard a couple voices arguing. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying. They were complaining about how it was unfair that they had to do all the work or something like that.

He crouched lowly so they wouldn't see him. A small broken wooden fence provided good cover as he continued his spying. Two men were shoveling dirt into a hole in the center of the cemetery. There was a lantern a few feet away from them to help illuminate the area. He was curious as to what they were burying, but couldn't see what was in the hole. 'It's most likely a body, which would explain the gunshot.' He thought. A patch of dried blood not far from the hole confirmed his theory.

Stealth wasn't really his strong suit. He preferred to just take the problem head on. Assert himself, as his father had put it when he encouraged him not to run away from his fears as a child. So that's just what he did.

Stepping through a missing part in the fence, he strolled right up to the men casually and stopped a short distance from them. "Nice night for a stroll eh?" He commented sincerely with a grin on his face. The two other men halted their digging and froze, starring at the man with looks of belief on their faces. Said man then leaned a little closer and peered into the hole. Some of the limbs of whatever poor soul was in there were still visible.

"Friend of yours?" He asked. The men glanced at each other before returning their sites to the stranger before them. He was about to further pursue in his odd method of interrogation before he saw a movement from the grave. A hand that was protruding from the freshly piled dirt twitched. The person was alive! He looked closely at it. The hand was small as well as very lithe. The skin was smooth and pale beneath the layer of dirt that covered it.

His brow furrowed. Anger began to boil inside of him. He could tell by the looking at the hand that whoever was buried under there was female. And a young female at that. These men- No not men, these animals had been burying a young girl. On top of that she was still alive! He had always had a soft spot for women and children. This was unacceptable.

Apparently his rage did not go by unnoticed by the other men. The one on the left had dropped his shovel as he reached for his weapon. However he was not nearly fast enough. He was thrown to the ground by the force of the impact dealt by the bullet that was now lodged in his cranium. The man on the right dropped his shovel and raised his hands to the air in a sign of surrender. He fared no better than his counterpart as a bullet tore through his left eye and exited through the back of his head. Blood and brain matter was spattered all over the ground.

He rushed to the hole, tossing his gun to the side he slid into the opening in the ground and began digging with haste. Using a shovel would be too dangerous; he might accidently hit the girl. So instead he began scooping the dirt out with his hands. Soon he had a good majority uncovered. He stopped digging and began pulling her out of the dirt. With a strong tug he wrenched her free from the dirt. He brushed the dirt and sand from her face as he held her. The side of her face as well as her hair was drenched in blood. He felt for a pulse. She had one but it was so weak that he almost missed it.

"Don't worry, I'm gonna get you some help so stay with me here." He said reassuringly. She didn't respond so he knew he had to get her to a doctor and fast. He heard footsteps behind him, followed by someone shouting. "What the hell!" He turned to see a man in a checkered suit grasping a shinny looking gun in his hand. Before he could react the man raised his gun and fired. The shot hit him directly in the chest. He tumbled into the hole with the young girl landing on top of him. While the bullet didn't pierce his armor, it still knocked the wind out of him. His vision was blurring and it started to darken.

Muffled voices were heard from above. "Damn it! I don't have time for this, someone's bound to show up with all the noise going on and we don't have time to bury both." Another voice that sounded equally as pissed was also heard. "We should leave, who cares if the bodies are found." The other voice responded. "Yeah I guess it really doesn't matter, let's just high tail it outta here before things get any worse."

His vision blacked out completely, it cleared up a short time later enough to see a large shadow looming over them. "Well ya'll look like you've seen better days." Said a voice in a heavy southern accent. The voice faded away as he was soon overcome by unconsciousness.

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**A/N**

**Thanks for reading my story.** **Review to tell me what you think. If there was something that you didn't like then please tell me. I welcome criticism.**


	2. Chapter 2: Off on the wrong foot

**Authors Notes:**

**Hello, First off I would like to say that I am sooooo sorry. School has really been getting in the way, but now that summer is here I have all the **_**time**_** in the world. . . . . . That was my attempt at a joke. Anyway I intend to make longer chapters than the first and much faster updates.**

**Disclaimer: We've been over this so no need for these anymore :)**

**Thanks to anyone who is taking the time to read my story. If you're feeling really nice I wouldn't mind some reviews :D**

**Please enjoy the show!**

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All the difference in the world

Chapter 2: Off on the wrong foot

"Well look who's finally waking up." Came a voice from above. 'What, where am I, what happ-'His mind was flooded with memories of the graveyard, the girl, the man in the checkered suit, everything. His eyes snapped open as he shot up from his prone position. "Whoa there sonny, are you alright?" Said the same voice as before.

He jerked his head to the right. Standing above him was an old man with a kind smile on his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut short as a wave of pain emitted from his chest. Looking down he noticed that his black leather armor was gone, along with his combat boots and weapons. He was left in only his boxers, undershirt, and socks.

He lifted his shirt to examine his injury. On the center left side of his chest was a dark purple bruise. As he let it fall back down, the old man spoke again. "You're lucky it didn't pierce your armor, all you got was a bruised rib. I'm Doc Mitchell, mind telling me your name stranger."

The young man rubbed his eyes to help himself wake up. "Jason, Jason Vance." The older man gave him a once over before nodding his head. "Right, Well Mr. Vance you may be fine but the young lady that was brought in with you didn't fair quite as well." At this Jason jerked his head in the doc's direction. "What happened to her, is she alright?" He asked.

The Doc stepped back and sat down in a chair only a few feet away. Jason just now took notice that he himself was sitting on a small couch. He looked up at the Doctor expectantly. Doc Mitchell leaned back as he sighed, running his fingers through what little hair he had left. "Well she was in real bad shape when Vic brought her in." Jason gave him an inquisitive look but allowed him to continue. "A bullet to the head isn't a very easy injury to live through; I'm surprised she's still breathing." He said with a slightly surprised look. Jason sighed a little in relief. He was glad that she had survived. 'She must be a tough one.' He thought to himself.

The older man picked up a clipboard with paper on it, as well as a pencil. "Well now Mr. Vance, I just need you to answer a few questions." Jason looked at him suspiciously. The Doc waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry, I'm not trying to invade your privacy, just need some basic information in case I ever have to treat you again." Jason hesitated for a moment before nodding his head. Doc Mitchell looked satisfied as he kept the pencil hovering over the paper in preparation to write. "Let's begin then shall we?"

"Full name?"

"Jason Crane, Vance."

"Age?"

"23."

"Height?"

"5'10, maybe 5'11."

"Race and nationality?"

"Caucasian, mostly American Indian and German."

"Allergies?"

"None."

"Blood type if you know it?"

"AB Negative."

The doctor paused to momentarily study Jason curiously. Then he turned his attention back to the clipboard.

"That's uncommon, okay and finally are there any long term diseases or illnesses you have that I should be aware of?"

Jason looked undecided for a moment before answering.

"No."

"Okay, that wraps it up for now." He said as he placed the clipboard and pencil on the table. Doc Mitchell rose from his seat and gave stretch, he was obviously tired. He must have been too busy tending to him and the girl to get any sleep. "Anyway, your friend is in the other room if you want to go check on her, I'm gonna see if I can catch some shut eye." He began to walk from the room, but stopped when Jason spoke up. "By the way, where is my gear?" He asked.

The Doctor turned around and pointed to a pile of familiar assortments. "I believe you'll find all of your possessions accounted for." He said, and then gave a big yawn as he turned and left the room. Jason lifted himself from the couch and crossed the room to the side where his gear lay. Picking up the top part of his leather armor, he noticed an indention in the middle of the chest area. It was among many of cuts, scratches, and various other damages. He ran his fingers over the spot briefly before pulling the article over his head and onto his torso.

After securely placing everything in their rightful spots (minus his Berretta) he checked the time on his Pipboy. '5:27 am, I've been out for quite a while.' He thought to himself. After rolling his neck to get any kinks out, he walked into the next room. It was dimly lit, only being illuminated by the dark morning sky shining through an open window. Near the back of the room were a few dirty beds and some old medical equipment. As Jason scanned the room, he noticed that one of the cleaner beds was occupied.

He slowly walked towards the still figure. Stepping up to the bed he took a closer look at her, never really having the chance to before. There was some gauss wrapped around her head, covering her blond hair. He thought it may have been that color but all the blood and dirt made it hard to tell. She wasn't quite as young as he had assumed. At first he thought she was in her mid-teens, now however he estimated late teens maybe early twenties. Her skin was surprisingly smooth and unblemished. The wasteland is usually pretty rough on people. Judging by her tan complexion she probably spent a lot of her time outside.

The sound of footsteps from behind made him turn around. Doc Mitchell was standing in the doorway with a curious expression. "I almost forgot to ask, where did you get one of those?" He asked, pointed to the Pipboy. Jason looked at it briefly before replying. "I used to live in a vault." He said. The Doc nodded his head thoughtfully. "I see, by the way, most of businesses in town should be opening in an hour or so." He gestured toward the young woman in the bed. "She probably won't be getting up anytime soon, so feel free to explore for a while." With that said, he exited the room, presumably to take a well-deserved rest. Jason gave the girl one last look before heading towards the door, fiddling with his Pipboy.

He stepped out into the early morning air, gazing around at the bleak yet colorful scenery. Even with all the destruction, the earth still managed to maintain some beauty. After giving the town a good look, he began walking down a greatly disfigured road, towards what seemed to be the center of town. As he passed a few rundown houses, he noticed a shadowy figure leaning against the shaded side of one of them. Jason turned his head completely in that direction. Glaring at him was a mean looking African American, male. He was dressed in a convict outfit with an armor vest over top of it. There were a few weapons strapped to his side, as well as some dynamite. Deciding not to stir up trouble only minutes after waking up, he returned his attention back to walking and kept on going.

As he approached his general destination, he spotted a bar, old motorcycles lined up outside, none of them working or like his. There was also what he guessed was a store right beside it. Realizing that he was still without a replacement handgun, he opted to deal with that first, the drink and breakfast could wait. After walking through the door he could tell that he was probably a little early. The store seemed empty and devoid of life, dust floating around everywhere. Upon further inspection, he noticed there was a backroom behind the counter. Clearing his throat he called out. "Hello?" The response he got was a few tired murmurs, then silence. "Hey!" This time there were some startled grunts, followed by a few muffled curses.

After a minute or so, a yawning, grumpy looking man stumbled out through the doorway. "Yeah what do ya want?" Jason decided that he didn't like this guy very much, no need for small talk then. "I lost my sidearm recently and I'm looking for a replacement, what do you have mister…." The man rubbed his eyes and answered. "Chet's the name, let me get some weapons out for you to select from." Chet turned and stepped over to a shelf, he hefted a large storage box from one of the higher sections. Placing it on the counter, he opened it and began setting an assortment of guns on the wide surface. "Here's what I got."

Jason looked at the variety of weapons spread out before him. There were a few 9mm handguns, none in good condition. A shiny 357 revolver which seemed to be in an alright shape. Two silenced pistols; he had no interest in those. Besides that, the rest was just a bunch of junk. "I'll take the 357 and that 9mm." He said, pointing to the handgun in the best condition, even though it wasn't much better than the rest. Chet nodded and set the two aside before putting the others away. "How about ammo?" Chet asked. Jason nodded while inspecting his new weapons. "Yeah, 18 rounds for the revolver, and 3 clips for the 9mm." Chet reached under the counter and pulled out a green ammo box, opening the top, he proceeded to sort through the different types of ammo.

Finally he had all the right ammo on the counter and managed to find 3 clips for the handgun. Chet looked up expectantly. "Is that all?" Jason nodded as he reached for his bag of caps. "Yeah." Chet opened an old register that sat not too far away. "That'll be 180 caps." He said with a smug grin on his face. Jason's hands stopped counting the caps out when he heard that, and looked up, giving Chet a threatening glare. "A bit pricey, don't you think?" Chet stepped back a bit. "Hey, a guy's gotta make a living somehow right?" He said nervously.

Jason set down his bag of chips, and then picked up the 9mm pistol as well as one of the clips. He switched his focus over to the items in his hands for a few seconds, inspecting them. "You're expecting me to pay that much for these near worthless pieces of shit?" Then he slid the clip into its rightful place in the gun, it sounded off with a satisfying click. "I wonder if this thing is even operational." After turning it back and forth in his hand, eyeing the partially rusted gun, he pulled back the slide, loading it with one of the deadly metal projectiles from the clip. By now Chet was sweating a waterfall.

"W-well maybe that is a tad bit pricey, I'm sure I could drop the prices a little, uh does 160 sound fair?" Jason remained silently, giving no indication that he agreed. "Okay, okay I'll bump it down to 140" Chet was trying to satisfy his dangerous customer without going too low on his price, he knew his wares weren't the best, but he had to make a living too. Jason lost his glare as he holstered his new weapon. "That sounds fair enough." Chet released a sigh of relief, as his customer counted out the caps and placed them on the counter. Jason picked the 357, tucking it away in the back of his belt, then he put the bullets and clips in the slots on his belt.

Turning away he got about three feet before remembering something, glancing down at his armor, he got an idea. Jason spun around and approached the counter again, with Chet eying him cautiously. "Can you do upgrades and repairs?" Chet looked thoughtful for a second. "Well nothing heavy-duty, but yeah." Jason looked around the store momentarily, then spotted a pile of old clothes. "Alright, well I'd like you to reinforce my armor, I'll buy some clothes to wear in the meantime, how much would the repairs, upgrades, and a set of clothes cost?" Chet had learned his lesson the first time. "It should be about 230 caps." Jason went over it in his mind and decided that it was a reasonable price. After fishing out the caps, he only had about 70 left. Looks like he would have to do something to get money pretty soon, nothing a little bounty hunting or bodyguard work couldn't fix. There were always jobs available in this wasteland.

After changing into his newly purchased outfit (A plane white shirt and jeans) and readjusting his weapons belt on his waist, as well as his machete and shotgun, he hefted the armor onto the counter. Chet studied it, testing the sturdiness, figuring out how to better its defenses. Jason checked the time on his Pipboy, 6:13 am. "How long will it before it's finished?" Chet looked up from the armor." Hmmm, I'd say about a day or so." Jason nodded his head. "I'll be back tomorrow to check your progress." Then he headed towards the exit. "Hey wait a sec." Chet called out, stopping Jason as he reached for the handle. "Look I'm sorry about the whole overpricing thing, it's early and I don't usually get up till 7." Jason turned his head to look at him. "Don't worry, no hard feelings." Then he opened the door and walked out.

The town wasn't quite as empty as before. Now there were a few early risers tending to their Brahmin, as well as a couple of people heading towards the bar. Jason stopped one to ask directions. "Which way to the cemetery?" The middle-aged man point a large water tower not too far off, then continued towards the bar. 'How did I miss that?' Jason thought to himself. He headed towards the large metal tower, hoping to find out just what went down last night.

After a few minutes of quiet walking, he arrived at the bottom of the path leading to the grave yard. Feeling no need to stop, he kept the same pace while ascending the hill. This time it was much easier, no climbing required. About half way up he paused mid step, a strange sound started coming from some dried up bushes about a dozen feet away. It sounded like an odd mixture of plastic and wood creaking and rubbing together. 'Radscorpion!' He pulled his shotgun from his leg holster, aiming at the bushes with both hands firmly griping it. The sound became louder and louder as the bushes shook violently. Jason tensed up, preparing fire off as many shots as possible. Radscorpions were one of the most dangerous creatures out there if they got close, especially the giant ones.

Then a small tan scorpion not even the size of a dog scurried out. Jason snorted. "Pfff, a Bark scorpion." He murmured to himself as he holstered his shotgun, and unsheathed his machete. No need to waste bullets. The small (By post-apocalyptic standards) exoskeleton creature crawled towards him at an unimpressive speed by his standards. It came to about a foot from him and lashed out with its stinger. Unfortunately it was too slow. Jason sidestepped the attack and slashed at it before it could retract. His aim was precise as he sliced through one of the weak joint type areas on its…tail? The stinger was separated from the rest of the scorpion, causing it to freak out and wildly snap its claws at the air as fluids gushed from its severed stump. Jason didn't give it a chance to recover and turn those claws on him. He twirled the machete once out of habit, before grabbing it with both hands and driving it straight through a particularly weak spot on its back. The sharp blade came out of the bottom of the scorpion, nailing it to the ground as it struggled a few seconds before dying.

Jason placed his boot on the dead scorpions back, pushing as he wrenched the blade from its carcass. He swung it a couple of times to clean the blade, then sheathed it on his back and went on his way. With no more distractions, he finally reached the top. Crudely made headstones were scattered across the graveyard, all placed on top of small mounds of dirt. At the other end near the edge, stood the tall water tower. He hadn't noticed it last night, not that he really had time to. Right in the middle, were two dead bodies, next to a half filled grave. Crows were picking at the corpses.

Walking over to the grave he kicked a rock at the birds, making them scatter and fly off. It hasn't been very long since he had killed them, so they didn't smell too much worse than they had when alive. Little chunks of skin were missing on account of the birds. They were both missing their eyes; the places he had shot them were really picked at. After looting anything of value from them, Jason looked around in search of his lost gun. No such luck. With closer inspection he found a few cigarette butts on the ground near the grave. 'Hm, not much to go on.' He stuffed one the butts in his pocket. You never know.

Taking one last look at the dead bodies, he noticed some strange markings on their jackets. There was some kind of symbol on the back. He flipped one of them over so he could get a better look. It was a skull-like face with some sort of horned helmet on it. He didn't recognize it since he's never been to the Mojave before. 'Maybe someone in town will know.' He took out a small knife he kept on his belt and cut the symbol from the leather jacket, then stuffed it in his pocket.

He was about to head back towards Goodsprings, but then he remembered his bike. Whirling around he raced to the edge of the hill, barely stopping in time to prevent himself from falling over. Putting a hand above his eyes to block the morning sun, he searched for his beloved motorcycle. Soon after, he spotted the tell-tale sign of light reflecting off of metal. Smiling to himself, he started his decent down the steep hillside.

Within a few short minutes of jogging, he reached the dried up bushes where he had stowed his motorcycle. Pushing the long dead branches aside, he uncovered it. He let out a big sigh of relief as he ran a hand through his shaggy dark brown hair. It was just as he had left it, maybe there was an extra layer of sand on it, but that wasn't too much of a problem. He wiped off the dirt and other small debris that had been carried by the wind. After it was clean enough by his standards, he swung a leg over the bike and settle on top of the seat. He double checked everything before sliding the key into the ignition, and revving the engine. He savored the moment of being back on his bike, then looked towards a road that led back to Goodsprings. "Time to find out what that symbol means." He said to himself as he strapped on the helmet he had left with the bike. "And maybe a drink to quench my thirst." Then he turned the accelerator and sped off.

Doc Mitchell's house/Clinic, 10:34 am

Pain. Aching pain. That's the feeling that was pounding trough her head. Opening her eyes, all she saw was a blurry blend of dull colors. Blinking a few times she cleared her eyes. She attempted to get up but only grunted in pain. Vaguely registering a shuffling noise beside her, she slowly turned her head in time to see an aged man with almost no hair hurriedly approach the bed. "What in the- you shouldn't have been up for at least another day." He tinkered with some sort of medical device next to the bed she was laying in while glancing back at her every few seconds. "Don't move yet okay, I need to make sure you're in a healthy enough condition to even be awake."

She continued watching him drearily, breathing in and out at a steady pace. It took her a few minutes but she finally mustered up the strength to lift her head and survey the room. From what she could tell, it was a house that had been fashioned into a clinic. It didn't take the man who she assumed was a doctor of some sort to notice her movement. "Take it easy now, I've run a scan on you to check your vitals." She turned her attention to him as he continued. "Amazingly you're recovering about two days earlier than I had predicted." She tried talking, but hurt throat was dry and all that came out was an incoherent rasp. The Doctor reached for something out of her line of sight. When his hand came back into view, it had a water bottle in it, which he held out to her. She gingerly took it and tried sitting up. He saw her distress and helped her into a sitting position. After unscrewing the top for her, he stepped back and let her take a few sips. Looking down, she noticed an absence of clothes, being covered only by her under garments. "Most of your clothes were ruined." He explained

The Doctor picked up a strange hand held device with a screen on it, fiddling with a few nobs and buttons on the side. "Well luckily the bullet didn't do too much damage to your features, but I did my best to piece back the parts that were affected." Handing it over, he set down in a chair while she looked at it. "How did I do?" The screen showed a 360 view of her head, everything detailed almost perfectly. Besides the new scar, she looked pretty much exactly like she remembered.

She set the device down on the bed she was sitting on. "Yeah, looks right to me." She said. The Doctor picked up a clipboard that had been lying on another bed nearby. "Alright now, I'm gonna ask some questions to rule out brain damage and for future reference, are you ready?" She nodded her head, which she regretted immediately, her head still ached.

"Alright, how about we start off with your full name?"

"Ryah Anne, O'Neil."

"Age?"

"18, but I'm almost 19."

"Right, Height?"

"5'5."

"Race and nationality?"

"Um, American?"

"Okay, Allergies?"

She just shrugged her shoulders.

"Blood type?"

She raised her eyebrow.

"Never mind, any diseases or illnesses I should be aware of?"

"I don't think so."

The Doctor finished writing and went over his notes. "Alright then Ryah, I'm Doc Mitchell and you're in my clinic in the town of Goodsprings, do you remember anything?" She sat there for a moment thinking back to last night. The long journey, the ambush, being knocked out then waking up with her hands and legs tied. She also remembered Benny that snake! Then she remembered being shot, and the horrible feeling of drifting through a sea of darkness. But there was something else. A voice that she had heard in the midst of all that darkness. One full of reassurance. She couldn't make out the words, but it definitely a voice.

"Yeah, I remember what happened up until I was . . . shot, but I remember something else after that." Doc Mitchell leaned forward "What might that be?" He asked. "Well I heard a voice, I couldn't tell what it was saying, but it sounded friendlier, not like the ones who shot me." The Doctor nodded his head. "Yeah, that was probably the guy that was found with you." She looked at him incredulously. "But, the only ones besides me were the ones who tried to kill me." She said as she began to sweat with panic written across her face.

The Doc opened his mouth to assure that wasn't the case, but the sound of footsteps drew their attention to the doorway. At that exact moment Jason just so happened to walk in, and unfortunately for him he was inspecting his new revolver for any rust. Looking up he saw that the girl from last night was up. He was about to speak, but paused when he saw the panic on her face. Ryah was really worried now. The sight of a gun in his hand made her react quickly. Before he could even move, she grabbed the small metal device lying next to her, and flung it right at him. It struck him above the eye, making a small cut. The revolver flew from his hand as he fell to the floor, he reached up to nurse the wound.

Before the Doctor could stop her, she jumped up and dashed towards him, snatching a scalpel from a table on her way. Jason moved his hand in time to see her launch herself at him with a small blade. He barely caught her hand in time as she landed on top of him. The scalpel only inches from his eye. It shook from the struggle between each of them. She had the upper hand, but he being the stronger of the two, was able to push it further away. The Doctors shouts were ignored by her completely.

Jason didn't know what was going on, and he didn't want to hurt her. "Hold on a second!" Immediately the force pushing the scalpel down at him stopped. Ryah looked down at the man beneath her, staring right into his eyes. "Your voice." She said quietly. Now Jason was really confused. "What?" He asked. Ryah dropped the small blade, it clattered on the ground next to his head. "It was your voice I heard." He was about to ask her just what in the hell she was talking about. Then he remembered last night. He had told her that she would be alright after he dug her up. At the time she was almost dead, but she could have heard him.

Ryah looked down and realized that she was still sitting on him, and was _still_ in only her underwear. She quickly got up, red-faced from embarrassment, averting her eyes. He stumbled to his feet, holding a hand to his head where he had been hit. "Um, sorry I thought you were one of the people who tried to kill me." She mumbled out quietly. Jason rubbed his cut lightly. "That's alright; I probably shouldn't have come with a gun out." He offered his hand. "Jason Vance." She hesitated momentarily before shaking it gently. "Uh, Ryah O'Neil."

Doc Mitchell, who was standing by silently, spoke up. "Well that was certainly an interesting first impression." They both quickly withdrew their hands. The Doc came over and tapped Ryah on the shoulder, causing her to jump slightly. "I just have a few more procedures for you to do, then you can be on your way if you feel up to." She just nodded her head and followed him over to an odd looking machine in the corner as he explained its functions. "This Vit-o-Matic will test you to see what areas you most excel at, strength, agility, intelligence, etc." He carried on with his explanation as Jason collected his weapon from the floor. After slipping it into his belt, he leaned onto the wall next to him. He watched Ryah and Doc Mitchell finish with the Vigor Tester, after that they went into a different room to do some kind of personality testing or something like that.

Jason pulled the piece of a leather jacket from his pocket, the odd symbol easily distinguishable from the rest of it. His trip to the bar had proved valuable. After introducing himself to Trudy (The town mayor of sorts), he asked her about the symbols meaning. She told him it was the icon of The Great Khans, one of the big factions in the Mojave. They were a tribe of some kind, usually didn't stir up too much trouble without reason. They resided in Red Rock Canyon, a place that actually wasn't too far from Goodsprings. Once she told him everything she knew, he asked about the man in the checkered suit. Apparently he and a few others had been seen leaving town in a real hurry, in the direction of Primm. Jason thought about going straight to Red Rock, but ultimately decided that he didn't want to lose the trail of the ones who tried to kill him and Ryah.

He put the scrap of leather away as he thought of a game plan. First he wanted to make sure he had plenty of gas for his motorcycle (Which was parked right outside). Then he would grab his armor once it was finished, and make sure his supplies were fully stocked. There was also Ryah; no doubt she would want to come with him to claim her vengeance or whatever she wanted. Before all that, he needed to make some quick caps. There were probably a few jobs around here that needed to be done, he could also hunt coyotes to trade their meat and pelts.

He momentarily paused his thinking to ask himself one important question.

Why? Why was he doing this?

For years now he had been traveling alone. Drifting from city to city, state to state. There was hardly anything that held him back before. So why now?

His answer? Because he was given a purpose. 3 years of the same thing was beginning to get tiresome. This new adventure would give him something to do. Something that didn't consist of doing odd jobs here and there, trading salvage for supplies, and traveling down an endless road that led to who knows where.

It was time to start anew. And this, was the perfect opportunity.

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**Thanks for reading all the way through chapter 2 of my story. I'm glad you did and I hope you liked it. If so then feel free to give me a review, it always makes me ten times happier for every review I get. :)**

**Oh! I almost forgot. My friend just started on a Fallout story of his own. First official story I might add. If you like dark Fics that capture the true hardships of the Fallout universe, this is probably your kind of story: .net/s/6920054/1/Gamblers_Wasteland**

**Until we meet again.**


	3. Chapter 3: Back in the saddle

**A/N**

**Hey all, sorry I took so long again but whatever. I finally got the inspiration to finish chapter 3 and this is the end result. I hope you enjoy, also if you like Max Payne (The game series, screw the movie) then check it out on my profile. Also check out a friend of mines story, he's doing a Fallout fic as well. So please check it out and leave a review so he'll be a little more motivated to get his ass in gear! I'll put his name at the end so you won't forget.**

**Whew! Okay now that that's out of the way, please indulge in chapter 3 of _All the difference in the world_.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

All the difference in the world

Chapter 3: Back in the saddle

She had never actually used a Pipboy before. Sure she had seen a few in her travels, but never had the chance to tinker with one. The strange large metal bracelet type thing that the Doc had given to her now sat snuggly on her arm. Well, maybe not snuggly. It was hard to get used to it at first, even though it was surprisingly light, it still weighed her arm down a little. However it was possibly the coolest little piece of technology she'd ever seen. It displayed all her vitals and other health related subjects on its orange colored screen. The detailed map would prove extremely useful when traveling, and it even came with a radio! Somehow, it keeps an inventory of all her items and what condition they're in. The Geiger counter would prove useful. Her bright blue eyes scanned the screen eagerly while she cycled through its functions.

Ryah glanced over at Jason, who at the moment was cleaning his bike as best he could with an old rag. He also had a Pipboy, except his had a green display. Doc Mitchell must have given it to him before she woke up. But his seemed a lot more weathered and used than hers. 'Guess I got the better of the two, ha!' She thought to herself. She kicked away a tumbleweed that had rolled up against her leg, and then went back to playing with her new toy. She paused to tug at the collar of the vault suit she was wearing. Her clothes had been ruined by all the blood and dirt, so the Doc was nice enough to give her an old Vault 21 suit that had belonged to his wife. It was a bit odd to be wearing a jumpsuit, but like the Pipboy, she'd get used to it.

She was also glad that she wouldn't be going off without a way to defend herself. She was also given a 9mm pistol and some ammo. A rifle would be better in her opinion, but beggars can't be choosers. It wasn't in the best of conditions, but it would do. She lowered her arm to look over the small town that sat before her. According to the doctor, someone named Sunny Smiles would show her the ways of the wasteland just in case that bullet to the head actually did do some lasting damage. However, she wasn't sure what Jason would do. He may have helped her at the graveyard, but that didn't mean he would travel with her on her quest to uncover the truth, for all she knows he could have other things to attend to.

Turning, she walked up behind the man she hardly even knew. Her shadow fell over him and his bike, informing him of her approach. He turned his head as she stopped next to him. She had a bit of a hopeful look on her face as she began talking. "Hey, thanks again for helping me out last night." He shook his head. "Don't worry about it; besides if that robot hadn't gotten there then you might not have made it, I was pretty useless after I passed out." She nodded. "Maybe but at least you dug me out, I might have suffocated before Victor got to me, but that's not what I wanted to talk about." Jason slightly raised an eyebrow, as if to say "Go on". She fiddled with her hair nervously as she talked. "Well I know you've already done a lot, but I was wondering if you would travel with me." Before Jason could answer, she continued. "I mean I've never explored the Mojave since it's so dangerous, and I would feel a lot safer with a companion, I'm sure I could find some way to pay you back." She said convincingly. Jason shook his head once again. "You don't have to pay me, I'll go with you."

"Really?" She asked with slightly shocked and happy look. "I mean great that would be wonderful" Jason dusted himself off and stood up, tucking the cleaning rag away in his back pocket. "So what direction did you plan on taking this?" He asked. For a moment she just stood there, hand on chin, contemplating what best action to take first. After a few more seconds she spoke with a clear and determined voice. "I'm going to pursue the men who tried to kill me and find out why." Jason looked up at the sky, studying the clouds passing by. "Are you sure you're up to it?" He asked. She scrunched her face a bit before saying. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Jason looked back down, returning his view to her. "Well you seem a little young to be doing stuff like this, how old are you anyway?" She stood up straight, trying to seem a little taller. "I'm almost nineteen years old." She answered proudly. Jason had suspected as much. "Well personally I'd think it would be better if you just went home, but it isn't really my choice." She nodded her head sharply. "Damn right." Then she slouched a bit. "Besides, I don't really have a home." Jason sighed quietly, looking down sympathetically. "I understand, if it's really what you want then I'll still go with you."

Ryah straightened right back up, gaining a broad smile on her face. "Thank you!" She said loudly, and before he knew she had stepped forward and put her arms around him in a quick hug. It was an awkward hug since he kind of just stood stiff with his hands to his sides. It felt strange to him, the only physical contact he had had in the past couple of years was close quarters combat. Not that the hug was unpleasant, in fact it was kind of nice to have a soft, warm body pressed up against him. 'Damn it's been too long.' He shook his head to clear the thoughts away. After another moment she let go and stepped back, her face had a tinge of red to it.

She coughed and motioned towards the saloon. "Shall we get something to eat?" Jason blinked before nodding, glad for the distraction. "Yeah, let's go." His stomach growled as he realized he hadn't eaten in almost a day, he'd forgotten to grab a bite when he asked Trudy about the Symbol. Ryah giggled a little and Jason just tried not to look embarrassed. He hadn't felt this childish in a long time. It was….not unwelcome. Ryah started walking towards the saloon, he followed suit. Briefly looking at his Pipboy he checked the time. '11:32 am, the day is still young." He thought as they strode away from Doc Mitchell's.

While walking Ryah started softly rubbing her scar where the bullet had hit. "I wish I had some kind of clue as to where my attackers went." She said. The corner of Jason's lip turned up slightly. "Well luckily for you I was doing some investigating while you were still out of it." She whirled on him. "What?" He stepped back a little before explaining. "After I recovered from last night I looked around and found some info on where they're heading and who they are." She sighed in relief. "Good, I was afraid that we'd have to just wing it for the most part."

Jason gave her a small smirk. "Aren't we already winging it?" She just glared at him. "Well who are they?" She asked. He pulled the piece of leather jacket out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Great Khans?" She asked with a puzzled expression. "What would they want with me, I've never even met one before." She stated, to which Jason shrugged. "There were more than just the Khans though." Ryah stopped right in front of the saloon. "That's right the guy with the checkered suit uh Benny I think."

Jason leaned against one of the old bikes parked next to them. "So that's his name, I remember him vaguely as the one who shot me." Jason said while rubbing his chest. Ryah looked at him incredulously. "He shot you too?" She asked. Jason shook his head. "Yeah but I had good armor and it didn't penetrate, and now I know it was him who shot you. At first I thought it was the ones I found uh, you know, burying you." Her eyes widened a bit. "Wait you mean they were still there when you got there?"

"Yeah, how do you think I got that?" He said pointing to the piece of leather jacket still clenched in her hand. She turned it over and noticed a small dried smear of blood on the edge. "Oh um thanks, I guess. Well how many did you get?" She asked. "Two, the others caught me by surprise." He answered as he dusted some dirt off his jeans. Then he stood up and stretched his back, receiving a couple of satisfying pops. Groaning in satisfaction he stepped onto the porch of the building and reached for the doorknob. "We can discuss more later, let's get some grub." She nodded and followed him in.

As they walked in a beautiful dog with blue eyes started growling at them. Jason slowly inched his hand towards his machete. However a loud, stern voice stopped him. "Easy Cheyenne, don't worry she won't bite unless I tell her." A woman in leather armor was the source of this voice she had dark hair and was a little taller than Ryah. "The name's Sunny Smiles, I reckon you're the one Doc Mitchell had brought back from the dead, you sure recover quickly." She said as she ran her hand over the dog's head. Despite her name she didn't seem like a real cheery type.

Ryah stepped forward. "The doctor told me that you would help make sure that there isn't any real damage." She said hopefully. Sunny raised her eyebrow and said. "Well I don't know about that but I can show you the ropes and see if you got what it takes." Ryah nodded. "Yeah that would be fine."

"Alright then meet me around back in a few minutes." Before leaving she turned to Jason. "And what about you?" She inquired. He had been focused on a heated argument going on between Ruth and some guy a distance away. "Huh? Oh I'll stay here and order something for breakfast, this sounds like something that you should take care of on your own." He said to Ryah. "That's fine." She said. After which Sunny promptly left to go do….whatever it is she had to do to get ready.

After watching her leave Ryah turned to Jason. "I think I'll at least get a drink first." She said. His reply was a simple nod. They both turned and walked towards the bar, where Trudy was still having her argument. Now that he was closer, Jason could hear that it was more than just a simple angry squabble. He caught the end of it, right around where he threatened to burn the whole town to the ground.

He spat on the floor in front of her and hastily turned to leave. However he was abruptly stopped by the large barrel that was now shoved roughly over his nose. His eyes nearly budged from his skull as he starred cross eyed at the long, metal cylinder that was attached to the rest of the lever-action shotgun Jason was holding in his right hand, standing slightly side ways to put more support behind the gun if he did indeed fire.

Trudy spoke up. "Easy there pal, there's no need for that." Jason recognized the guy at the end of his gun as the man he saw leaning against the old houses glaring at him. Jason spoke coldly without ever losing eye contact with the guy. "I just heard him threaten to burn this town down, that's reason enough for me." Jason placed one of his feet further back to get a better stance. He then pushed the guy back with his gun, almost making him lose balance. He tensed his body a bit. Someone sitting at the bar quickly jumped up and backed away from both of them, trying to stay out of the possible blast radius, Trudy looked like she was trying to find the right words to stop him, and Ryah turned head so she wouldn't see it happen.

The guy started pleading him to stop. "Wait a second we can make a deal-" He was about to continue but Jason looked as though he was about to pull the trigger, his voice caught in his throat. "Ah-" He squeezed his eye shut waiting for the loud blast followed by death. Instead all he heard was. "Bang." His eyes opened to see Jason come at him, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him towards the door.

"Get out of here before I give you a new hole to breathe through." Jason yelled his shotgun in both hands and trained on him. The other man took no time at all to get out of there. From beside him he heard Ryah sigh in relief. Turning he saw Trudy with a not so pleased look on her face. "What in the hell was that?" She asked angrily. Jason slid his shotgun back into the holster on his leg. "An intimidation method, he won't be back." He said nonchalantly.

Trudy shook her head. "It's not just him; he has a whole gang of people with him." Jason seemed more interested now. "Really, this is more serious than just a lowly thug. You should have let me take him out while I had the chance." Trudy's forehead creased. "Murders not the way we do things around here." Jason sighed. 'It's not murder it's self-defense.' He thought to himself. He would have made the argument but he could tell that she would never agree.

Ryah cleared her throat, getting their attention. "Why are they even here?" She asked. Trudy walked around and took her place behind the bar. They both sat down on some stools and listened to what she had to say. For the next couple of minutes she explained that a caravan had been attacked by a new group in the Mojave called the Powder Ganger, who are a bunch of escaped convicts with a lot of dynamite in their possession. When they attacked the caravan they had killed all but one person, a guy named Ringo who had escaped and was now taking refuge in the abandoned gas station in town. The Powder Gangers know he's here and has been threatening the town and are demanding them to give him up.

After she was done telling them their situation, Ryah had immediately asked. "Is there anything we can do to help?" Trudy scratched her head as she thought. "Well you can go up there and talk to him, see if he has some sort of plan I guess." Ryah nodded her head and gained a determined look in her eye. "Alright, I'm going to see if there's something I can do to help." Jason would have mentioned that included him, but decided not to kill her confidence. He instead opted to remind her of something she seemed to have forgotten. "Hey Ryah." He said. She turned to him. "Yeah?" She asked. "Weren't you supposed to meet Sunny Smiles out back?" Ryah gasped, and jumped up from her seat. "Oh I completely forgot, um I'll go see Ringo afterwards." Without another word she raced out of the saloon.

Trudy watched her leave before turning to Jason. "It's a shame that someone so young is getting caught up in messes like this." Jason nodded in agreement. "It's the way of the world I guess." He said solemnly. "It would seem so." Trudy said sadly. Jason tapped the bar, drawing her out of her thoughts. "Well let's not dwell on what we can't change; can I see what you have to eat?" He asked. Trudy reached under the counter and handed him a menu. "What'll it be?" She asked.

Jason browsed over the small selection of food and beverages. "I'll take some squirrel stew and a Sunset Sarsaparilla." Trudy took the menu back and went to prepare the food. Reaching into a crate she pulled out a bottle of SS and set it down in front of him. He took it and popped the cap off, making sure to put it in his pouch of other caps. Looking at the warm drink he sighed. "Well, down the hatch."

Behind the saloon Sunny Smiles stood, tapping her foot impatiently. After another minute or so she saw Ryah come running around the corner. She slowed to a stop as she approached her. Ryah wiped a little sweat off of her forehead. "Sorry, I got a little held up inside." She said. Sunny simply rolled her eyes and picked up a Varmint Rifle that was leaning against an old fence next to them. She held it out to Ryah. "Here take this and see if you can hit those bottles over there." Ryah tuned her head to see 7 empty SS bottles sitting on top of a fence about 40 or so feet away. She smirked as she got down on one knee and fired all 5 shots that were in the clip. Every single one shattered a bottle into dozens of pieces.

Sunny's mouth hung open slightly. She quickly shut it and patted Cheyenne on the head. "Well I can see that you've got that down." Ryah gave her a smug smile. Sunny pulled her own rifle off her back and made sure it was loaded. "Well there's been word of some Geckos causing problems over at the water wells; I can pay you if you're willing to help. Ryah thought about it for a moment and agreed to do it. "Good." Sunny said. She then started jogging in the direction of the wells, Cheyenne following closely behind her. Ryah gripped the weapon tight in her hand and raced after Sunny.

After a few minutes they reached the other side of town, which lead to some rocky, hill areas. There were paths all over the place with rock walls surrounding them. As they neared a corner Sunny kneeled down, motioning for Ryah to do the same. She quickly knelt as well and inched towards the edge. Peeking around the bend she saw a windmill in the distance with a pump device at the bottom. Around it were a couple of Geckos wondering around, each standing at about 4 feet in height. She couldn't get a clear shot due to some bushes that obscured her view. Sunny nudged her in the side. "Well, have at 'em." She said. Ryah nodded her head and came out from behind the edge, still crouching. She crept along the wall, rifle raised.

Once they were in sight she took aim and fired. One dropped lifeless on the ground, his eye socket now filled with the remains of its previous occupant. The second charged her as she moved the bolt up, back, and forward to reload. It didn't get far as she fired another shot, it struck directly in its forehead. Its momentum carried another yard or so, stopping at her feet. She gave it a light kick, assuring that it was dead. She heard a sound from behind; her instincts caused her to swing around weapon readied. Sunny leaned away from the barrel in her face. "Easy kid, don't be so jumpy." She said while pushing the gun away with her hand.

Ryah pulled her weapon back. "Um sorry I was just in the moment." She scratched her head embarrassingly. Sunny just rolled her eyes. "Let's go, there's still another well to be purged of these little bastards." Her and her trusty canine walked pass the well and towards the other. Ryah stayed close.

As they neared a ledge sounds of a struggle became evident. They both raced to the edge, Ryah being the fastest got there first. Below she saw a woman holding what appeared to be a meat cleaver fending off three Geckos. She had some rather painful looking scratches on her arms and legs. Wasting no time Ryah aimed and fired at the one in the center. It dropped like a stone, startling its counterparts. They both turned to locate their new attacker. The Gecko on the right was rewarded with a clean headshot. The last mutated reptile fell less than a second later, Ryah glanced to the right to see Sunny holding a smoking rifle.

Ryah quickly jumped down to attend to the injured lady. One of their shots must have missed the important parts, because as she approached her one of the Geckos launched to its feet. It made an awful noise and lunged at Ryah. Time almost seemed to move in slow motion as only inches from her face the ugly creature was yanked from the air. Cheyenne now had its neck in her jaws and began shaking back and forth. Blood and scaly skin were strewn everywhere as the fearsome animal shredded the oversized mutation's neck to bit. It didn't take long for the deed to be completed, the dog dropped its lifeless carcass on the ground. Sunny patted her head proudly. "Good dog." She said. Cheyenne licked her chops and panted happily. Ryah would have thought it to be cute if not for the fact that there was blood covering almost her entire muzzle.

"Thank you!" Said an extremely relieved voice from beside her. Ryah turned to see the nameless woman holding out a bottle of fresh water. "I was coming out here to get some water, but it's too dangerous right now. You deserve it, and I don't really have anything to pay you with." Before Ryah could refuse the woman thrust them in her hands and limped back towards town. All Sunny had to say was. "Damn people need to be more careful."

After that they went on to clear out the other well and Sunny showered her a thing or two about survival. It was pretty simple, Ryah was paid 50 caps and got to keep the rifle as well as all the ammo she was given. It was in pretty poor condition, but that was pretty common. She wasn't about to complain about a free weapon. Checking her Pipboy she discovered that it had been nearly an hour in total since she left the bar. 'Damn I missed breakfast, Jason's probably off doing something else by now. She decided to jog the rest of the way just in case he was still there.

Sure enough, there he was sitting at the bar cleaning his shotgun carefully. The empty bowl and bottle next to him made it apparent that he had already eaten. He cocked his head to the side as she sat on stool beside him. "Wow I'm just about on the brink of starvation." She announced. Trudy didn't miss it and was over right away with a menu held out. Ryah smiled and began browsing. "Thanks." After a minute or so she decided on what she wanted. "I'll have some maze, carrots, and water." Trudy took the menu and added it up. "That'll be 18 caps." She said. Ryah took out her bag of newly earned caps and handed over the amount requested.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "I see you were busy." Ryah shook the bag before sticking back in her pocket. "Yep." She said. After a few minutes her food arrived and she began to eat with gusto. 'She wasn't kidding about being hungry." Jason thought to himself. Returning to his weapon he resumed cleaning it. They remained silent as everyone just relaxed. Nothing but the sound of the radio, playing it's old-time music.

"Stars of the midnight ranges"

"Shining through the night"

"Stars of the midnight ranges"

"Light my way tonight"

"While my herd is grazin"

"Guide them til the dawn"

"Watch them while I'm sleepin"

"Till the stars are gone"

Jason just sat and let his mind drift with the music, to happier times, and happier places. All of which had taken place in an underground vault. Were he lived before his entire life as he knew it had been turned upside down. His mind was filled with his childhood memories. Friends, neighbors, and many more. His parents were especially present in his thoughts, and how much he missed that past life.

A single tear slid from his eye unnoticed by him, as he was too engrossed with his dwellings. However it wasn't missed by the person directly beside him. Ryah had looked at him once she noticed his inactivity. The tear she had seen fall from his eye had her very curious, but she knew better than to ask. She hadn't gotten to know him well enough to ask personal questions. So she remained quiet, putting that piece of info away for later. It might be a good chance to get him to open about his past. He was still a big mystery to her, and she wanted to know more about him.

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**A/N**

**Yay! I hope you liked it, because it was becoming a pain in the ass to get the facts right. I had to pop Fallout: NV**** in and start a new game for referential purposes. Oh well, I'm always pleased gety another chapter out.**

**My friends author name is: Mystical Muse**

**I hope you take the time to enjoy my friends story, and leave a review Caesar's sake. Whoops I mean...you get the idea.**

**Peace!**


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